Solo piece from 2010 about Ismene, sole survivor of the house of Oedipus, patron saint of apathy.
NOTES FROM THE PIECE
Catherine McKinnon. I have no outside to stand on or gaze at, no inside to escape to, too much urgency to wait, no place else to go and nothing to use but the twisted tools that have been shoved down my throat. That this is not a dialectical paradox, but a methodological expression of women's situation, in which the struggle for consciousness is a struggle for world: for a sexuality, a history, a culture, a community, a form of power, an experience of the sacred.
Everyone belongs to something except Ismene. Creon belongs to Thebes, Oedipus to his fate. Haemon belongs to Antigone, Antigone to the gods. Polyneices and Eteocles belong to each other. Ismene is neither here nor there. She barely belongs to herself, changing her mind all the time about what to do.
"Bitch: They used to lock the door. So I escaped. The first few times they’d catch me, and Creon would ask me how I thought I’d survive on my own. I told him I thought I’d be an actress. Write a one-woman show about my fucked-up childhood. One time they didn’t catch me, but I got hungry, so I came back."
But Antigone, I said, it is God who died. And if God- (check the hallway) If God is dead, does he deserve a funeral?
God is a man and all the men are dying.
God is a house.
Antigone, I said, there’s a war on, hadn’t you heard. Antigone, I said, what’s so wrong with being eaten by vultures.
They always seemed noble to me: the most ecologically minded carnivores.
I don’t know if I could stand to take a good look at carrion flesh, maggot eaten faces and rotting limbs – much less eat them.
Antigone, I said, I am so afraid.
My heart is at my throat when I think of death.
They say if the functions of the pancreas are confused with that of the heart or thoracic/ thyroid bodies, then love and sexual feeling may be expressed as competitiveness and rage.
But Eteocles, and Polyneices, the only trophies they took at Thebes were each others lives.
Scroll down to blank page. Rustle around the bag. Cough. Whistle good/bad/ugly. Shootout. Deaths. Laughter. Crying. Close computer. Crying. Bulb on. I’ve gotta get out of here.
"We start, then, with nothing, pure zero. But this is not the nothing of negation. For not means other than, and other is merely a synonym of the ordinal numeral second. As such it implies a first; while the present pure zero is prior to every first. The nothing of negation is the nothing of death, which comes second to, or after, everything. But pure zero is the nothing of not having been born. There is no individual thing, no compulsion, outward nor inward, no law. It is the germinal nothing, in which the whole universe is involved or foreshadowed. As such, it is absolutely undefined and unlimited possibility -- boundless possibility. There is no compulsion and no law. It is boundless freedom." — Charles S. Pierce
Don’t recall; let go of what has passed: MIMNO
Don’t imagine; let go of what may come: MI BSAM
Don’t think; let go of what is happening now: MI SHES
Don’t examine; don’t try to figure anything out: MI DPYOD
Don’t control; don’t try to make anything happen: MI SGOM
Rest; Relax; right now, and rest: RAND SAR BZHAG